


Old College Try

by orphan_account



Series: Tallahassee [3]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: M/M, Road Trip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 17:32:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7473342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Goddammit. Only Mac could get him the worst perfect gift.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Mac and Dennis make their first stop in rural Pennsylvania.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old College Try

Their first rest stop is in a little ass-backwards town called Willow Hill. The Rover’s tank is close to empty and Mac has to piss _now_ so here they are in the middle of nowhere filling up gas at the most dilapidated Wawa Dennis has ever seen. While waiting for the tank to fill, he texts Mac with a very pressing matter:

“ _do they have flip flops_ ”

The little dots telling him that Mac is typing flash for a few moments before his reply comes.

“ _sort f. cum in. important._ ”

Dennis sighs. He was planning on just making Mac buy him the shoes so he didn’t have to be seen in the disgusting place itself but whatever. Fine.

“ _fine_ ”

Dennis watches the price go up and up and raises his eyebrows when the handle goes ‘thunk.’ The price of gas has doubled for the summer months. He takes out a credit card he’d stolen from Frank on one of his more senile days and swipes it through the machine. Dennis grabs his receipt, crinkles it in his palm, and throws it in the trash. Frank owes him 40 years of Christmas presents. The old bastard can spare some change to pay for their road trip.

He closes his gas tank and locks his car. Then he presses the lock button twice more so the alarm honks loudly. The last thing they need is some hillbilly carjacking them in the middle of nowhere. Secure in the notion that his car will be kept in his own good hands, he heads into the store to see whatever the hell Mac needs.

The inside of the Wawa is as shitty as the outside. There’s a thin layer of mud on the floor, clearly tracked in by enormous boots. The snack selection is pitiful, and there’s only one small cooler of coke and diet coke near the counter. Discount tobacco products fill up almost an entire wall. His mouth waters involuntarily at the numerous packages of filtered Marlboros. _Yellow teeth_ he reminds himself as he tears his eyes away. Pushing forty is too old to risk wrinkling his skin with smoking.

He finds Mac by a wall of dusty maps behind a row of chocolate candies. Mac’s frowning as he flips through one of the larger ones. The shoes, hideous green knockoff Keds, are hung around his neck by their theft-proof elastic. A pack of filtered Marlboros is tucked into the mouth of one of the shoes. Mac catches his eye, and his face lights up. Before Dennis can say _Those shoes are hideous_ or _I don’t smoke anymore_ or even _What the hell did you want me to come in for_ , Mac dives into the conversation.

“So I was talking to the gas station guy up front and telling him that we were going to Mount Rushmore and he was like ‘How are you guys getting there’ and I realized I had no idea. I told him we were just heading west until we got there and he said we could do that more better if I bought one of these huge maps.” He shoves the thick map into Dennis’s hand and continues. “I said to him ‘well couldn’t we just use a GPS for this shit’ and he said no because there’s nothing that beats having a human navigator. Someone to protect the car and control where it goes every moment of every day.”

“Are you volunteering to navigate?” asks Dennis.

“Hell yeah, I’m volunteering to navigate!” He swings his arm around Dennis’s shoulder, and holds out his fist to bump. The knockoff Ked smacks Dennis in the chin.

“So you don’t want to drive anymore?” The idea of Mac not touching the Rover is incredibly tempting, but if he expects to be allowed to boss Dennis around the whole trip _and_ to drive his car, he’s got another think coming.

“Nah. This job is way more important than driving.” He smacks Dennis on the chest with the hand previously used for the aborted fist bump. “You still have to give me music privileges though. I’m putting in work here.” He squeezes Dennis’s shoulder one last time, and lets go.

“Your driving sucks. It’s a deal,” says Dennis. “Gimme those shoes. I’ll pay for this shit up front.”

Mac untangles the shoes from around his neck, and hands them over. “I picked you up some cigs too because they were so cheap. They’re that girly filtered kind you used to like. Know you don’t usually smoke anymore but driving is stressful and whatever so I thought you might want some.”

Dennis takes the soft, smooth package out of the shoe and turns it over in his hand. The packaging has a faint smell of tobacco; it makes him reflexively taste acrid smoke in his throat. The muscles in his back relax a little at the thought. Goddammit. Only Mac could get him the worst perfect gift.

“You forgot to get me a lighter,” he says, clenching his hand more tightly around the cigs. “Can’t smoke ‘em without a lighter.”

Mac runs his hand through his hair, disturbing some of the disgusting gel that holds it down. “Goddamn it. Well they’re up at the counter anyway. Do you want me to –”

“No. I’ll pick out my own.” He digs around in his pocket, takes out his keys, and tosses them to Mac. “Start up the music. I’ll be out in a minute.”

Mac practically skips out the door. He’s so easy to please.

Dennis slaps the shoes, map, and cigs onto the counter. He quickly picks out a pink lighter, and slides it into the pile. Then he takes the credit card out of his wallet, and pushes it across the counter towards the old, mangy clerk.

“I don’t need a receipt.”


End file.
